Bluebirds and Lemon Drops
by raindropp
Summary: That's where you'll find me. T:SCC. Set during "The Turk."


Title – Bluebirds and Lemon Drops

Synopsis - Set during the time line of "The Turk," but completely original story. Another John story, with a bit of John/Cameron thrown in. A bit of a character sketch on John. Don't really know if this works, but it was an idea that I had, so I ran with it. Oh, and reference to T3.

Disclaimer - Apparently, Warner Brothers owns Terminator. At least, that's what wikipedia says. Kudos for the song go to Harold Arlen, E.Y Harburg, Judy Garland, and Shawn McDonald.

Note – I love the Wizard of Oz, and after Episode 2 I've been thinking about how I'd like to use it in a fic. This is the result. Hope you like!

Note2 - I used some "strong language" in this one. Don't know why. Maybe it was the mood I was in when I wrote it.

* * *

Living on the run had its advantages, and one of them was that John was an excellent thief and scavenger. 

Because of his mother's one bag rule, John constantly had to leave things behind when his mother got the itch to run again. After the first five sudden departures, John had learned not to get attached to anything that would be hard to take on the road. His bag contained a few shirts, pants, underwear, socks, a battered Spanish copy of _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_, and his CD player. He only needed one pair of shoes.

Everything else got left behind. If John needed something, he stole it.

After the jump to 2007, John had absolutely nothing. In fact, he had "landed" naked as the day he was born with his equally nude mother and terminator. Freud would have a few words to say about _that_.

Obviously, he had gotten some clothes just as his mother had been able to find necessities for their new dump of a house. As for his other belongings, after the first day of school, John had realized that the CD player was practically obsolete as everyone had this awesome new music player: the "iPod."

The only thing that John missed was his book. Of course, it could not be helped, and if Sarah knew that he was depressed about losing it, she probably would have made him spend more time at target practice to "man up." John was still a little sad about losing it. It was stupid, but now it felt as if he had lost his one fleeting connection to a somewhat happy, albeit fucked up, childhood.

Today, though, he really wished he could read it. The events at school had completely stunned him. He knew Cameron and his mother were right, that if he had tried to stop that girl it would have meant unwanted attention, but he felt miserable knowing that someone had _died_ while he simply stood there and watched.

John wondered where that jackass who had shouted at the girl to jump was. Maybe if he found the idiot, John could relief some of his anger by beating the crap out of him.

_Yeah, 'cause that's not unwanted attention_, he said to himself.

He snuck out of the house for a walk. Sarah had gone on another "date," and John did not want to think about how her idea of foreplay could end up being fatal for that Andy guy. He also knew Cameron was following him, but he did not care. As long as she left him alone, he did not care if she acted as his shadow, even though it was creepy to think that a terminator—even a "nice" terminator—was watching him.

Alleys were great places to find things he wanted. It always amazed him at the junk people threw away. Most of it was fixable, but people did not want to take the time when they could just purchase something to replace their junk.

John was good with his hands, and he was good at fixing things, figuring out how things were supposed to work.

While Cameron watched from the shadows, John pulled himself up onto one of the dumpsters that littered the alley. He thought about getting in but decided against it. Sarah's one rule about dumpster diving was that John had to do his own laundry. John hated doing the laundry.

As he sat straddling the edge of the dumpster, he noticed something. Someone had thrown away what looked like a perfectly good guitar. _Spoiled, rich consumerists_, he thought to himself as he grabbed it.

Except for a few broken strings and some nasty stains from the garbage, the instrument was in decent condition. John smiled as he carefully dismounted. He had not had a guitar in a long time.

When he was first put into foster care, he had been passed around a lot. Most people were a little freaked when they heard that his mother was a psycho who believed robots were trying to kill her son who jut happened to be a messiah. They were even more freaked when John talked about it as if it was no big deal, as if he really believed he _was_ the messiah. After awhile, he stopped talking about Judgment Day and his father and the whole time-travel thing just so he could stop going to the shrink, and eventually he stopped believing it.

Three foster families before he ended up in Todd and Janelle's care, John had been placed in the Burnett home. They were kind people and treated John decently until he started acting up. The Burnetts had a son who had been 16 when John lived there. His name had been Roger and he had taught John how to play a few basic chords on the guitar.

Since then, whenever John got the chance, he would practice. He was not that good. It is hard to practice when you do not have a guitar, and they can be difficult to come by. Not everyone is as stupid as the previous owners of John's newfound treasure.

After a quick stop at a music store to buy strings and some polish to clean the guitar with, John headed home.

Cameron fell into step beside him. He ignored her and she him. They walked in an easy silence back to the house. As John started to head for his room, Cameron stopped him.

"You play beautifully," she said.

John looked at her. "What?" he asked. "How would you know?"

"You often play at night, after the day is done and everyone is ready to go to sleep," she explained, and John felt that tightness in his chest that he got whenever she talked about his future self. "Everyone loves it when you play. The older one says it reminds them of life before The War, and the younger ones say it makes them feel human."

"I'm not that good," was all John could say. He was ashamed to realize her words were making him blush.

"You are good enough," Cameron said in that voice that was almost human but still not quite.

There was a silence between them, and John abruptly turned to go into his room.

Cameron followed.

"Will you play me something?" she asked.

"What would you know about music?" he asked. "You're just a machine."

"Music is a very human creation," she admitted, "It doesn't make that much sense to me. But I like it when you play."

"You like it when I play?" John repeated. He wondered just how far advance Cameron actually was. Was she capable of feeling?

Cameron seemed to know what he was thinking. She was staring at him, her head tilted in a very human way. "You play one song that everyone likes very much," she said. "Katherine says it is her favorite."

"Katherine?"

She ignored his question. "Something about bluebirds," she said, "Bluebirds and lemon drops."

The tightness in his chest increased with the pulse of his heart. Bluebirds and lemon drops? He only knew how to play one song well, and yes, it had something to do about bluebirds and lemondrops.

He did not say a word as he quickly cleaned the guitar of its filth. He replaced the broken strings and spent a few minutes tuning it. Cameron sat on the floor and waited patiently for him to finish.

When he was ready, John sat on his bed. His fingers slowly began to pick out the chords. As he played, Cameron watched him closely. He thought he could see a smile on her face.

After a while, John began to sing. His voice was gruff and hard. It had been a long time since he had sung, and then his mother had been the only one to hear.

John sang

Somewhere over the rainbow  
Way up high  
I heard once, oh I heard it once in a lulla, a lullaby  
And somewhere over the rainbow  
Skies are blue  
And those of you who dare to dream, your dreams really can come true

Someday I'll wish upon a star  
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me, are far behind me  
Where troubles melt like lemon drops  
Way up above the chimney tops  
Is where you'll find me, it's where you'll find me

Someday I'll wish upon a star  
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me, far behind me  
Where troubles melt like lemon drops  
Way up above the chimney tops  
Is where you'll find me, it's where you'll find me

And somewhere over the rainbow  
Little bluebirds fly  
Little blue birds fly over the rainbow  
So why, oh why can't I?  
And somewhere over the rainbow  
Little bluebirds, they fly  
Little blue birds fly over the rainbow  
So why, oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly  
Way up above the big blue sky  
Why can't I?

He strummed a bit more and then stopped. Cameron was still staring at him, her face expressionless.

"Yes, that's the song," she said.

He felt strangely happy. The song had made him feel whole again. It was not _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_, but it was close enough.

"John?" Cameron asked.

"Yeah?"

"What's a lemon drop?"

John just smiled.

* * *

Sarah had come home a few minutes after John and Cameron. She listened as John played that old familiar song. She remembered singing it to him when as a child he couldn't sleep or had awoken from terrifying nightmares. And while it disturbed her to know that her son was bonding with an immodest female terminator, it bothered her even more when she listened to him sing. 

She could hear the pain and the frustration in his voice. In that one song, John had managed to share all the feelings and thoughts that he had kept hidden from her. It bothered her that he was closing himself off from her.

But Sarah also knew that she didn't necessarily want to know everything John was feeling. Call her a coward, but she did not want to think about how fucked up she had made his life.

* * *

Note – While Judy Garland might pwn "Somewhere over the Rainbow," my second favorite version is Shawn McDonald's. Check it out if you can. It's on his CD "Live in Seattle." I listened to it 24 times while writing this story. It's awesome. 


End file.
